


1C

by alybean



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Childhood Trauma, Depression, Heaven & Hell, Hell, Love, Love Poems, Mental Breakdown, Parents, Poetry, Rhyme, Slam Poetry, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22781986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alybean/pseuds/alybean
Summary: who knew hell would be at home?





	1C

1c  
where childhood innocence disintegrated into dust  
and adolescent fumes are covered by cheap perfume.  
where the happiest moments became a distant memory and  
poison seeps from thick painted walls inhaled by vulnerable inhabitants.  
where i’ve called home since my toddler years but now steer as far as possible from in fear  
where i fell from heaven’s soft sanction of security and  
entered the burning flames of hell, melting into a candle of lost souls,  
souls that called the wrong place home.

1c  
what does that mean?  
what significance does that have to me?  
i think of princess birthday parties.  
packed luggage bags  
trips to Disney  
gentle smiles from a quiet girl.  
a well behaved, hidden child,  
just perfect, just right,  
that devoluted into a  
failed project, a grotesque minded  
young woman,  
brainwashed by hopes and dreams,  
easily achieved success and negligence.

1c  
what is 1c?  
1c is  
late night mental breakdowns  
hysterical sobbing  
clinging onto the wrong things  
yells and screams  
unraveling seams  
broken love, still present but not untouched  
the veins of it popping as if to explode  
and as much as it’s wanted to leave  
it’s stays because without it,  
1c is incomplete.  
in simpler terms,  
manipulation.  
manipulated love.

1c  
i am not a person in 1c.  
i do not matter in 1c.  
1c would still be 1c without me.  
because as i have written before  
a pit of perpetual fire sits at my front door  
at my back door lies an abyss of hot candle wax  
out my windows there is a void of red stained with black  
in the building mindlessly walk victims of torment  
in the apartment are delusional devils for parents  
in the room where i sleep to escape reality,  
in the bed where i pray to live happily  
in the mind where i wish i could fly with angel wings  
back to where i belong, up in heaven’s arms  
but here i am, who knew hell would be  
in my own apartment, number 1c.


End file.
